I met these two guys, and in the beginning, it was a lot of fun, a lot of beers and partying big time. I thought they liked me. At least they said they did. They lived in a big messy house outside London, and it really needed cleaning. But I didn’t care. What was important was I had a place to stay.
One day they took me in a car, drove me to a house, and left me alone with a fat, bald man who raped me. I was scared like fuck, and I was shaking and crying when I left the house. I was in shock and far away from myself. Couldn’t think and couldn’t feel anything but shame.
In the following days, the violence intensified. They said the fat man wasn’t happy, and they wanted to teach me a lesson. I had to provide better ‘services’.
This practice continued for months while the violence got worse. They stripped me naked, beat me up with clubs, threatened me with knives, and sometimes they cut me. They gave me heroin – which I took to distance myself from the pain.
They were screaming in my face for hours. They said I was a weirdo, and they started calling me Weirdo. They locked me up in an empty room for days, burned me with cigarettes, tied me up, and left me alone.
They put me in the trunk of their car, took me to the forest, raped me, and left me naked. They humiliated me in every possible way they could think of. They threatened to kill me several times, and I sometimes wished they would…
They broke two of my ribs, and I have scars everywhere. They tried to cut my left ear and attempted to cut my nipples off. They set my hair on fire, burnt me, used me as an ashtray, branded me with glowing hot nails like I was their property, and cut pictures on my back with a knife. I got my head bashed with a bottle which left a deep scar and almost cut my other ear off, and they shot me through my right hand with a pistol.
They sold me as a sex slave to dozens and dozens of men. They took the money. I took the beatings.
Sometimes two or three men raped me. Sometimes I was drugged, sometimes not.
I lost all my self-respect and my dignity. I felt worthless. Like shit. I didn’t know what to do. I was like a fly caught in a web. I couldn’t escape.
One day a dozen men came in cars and hell broke loose. They didn’t speak English. They spoke a language I didn’t know. It looked like a gang war, and they shot everybody in the house. But not me. They took me to the cars and drove off to another house.
There were three other girls in that house. We were held prisoners by three guards with guns. It gave me a break, and I recovered a little. But it was only the calm before the storm…
After a few days, we were thrown into a truck that drove and drove and drove. For days. Sometimes they took a break to eat and shit, but only for a short while. Sleeping in the back of a driving truck with seven other girls wasn’t fun at all, and we were exhausted when we arrived in the southern part of Italy.
There we were put into two small motorboats and sailed to the coast of Albania, from where we were picked up in a van and escorted to a faraway house in the mountains.
Check the Survival Shop here.
Angelica fled from a catholic school because she didn’t fit in there due to her rough childhood losing her parents and her sisters. She ended up in the streets of London as a prostitute selling her body for the next fix. She got picked up and trafficked to Albania where she suddenly got the chance to fight for her self and the girls in the brothel and she took it and a nasty bunch of criminals suddenly felt the wrath of Angel in a bad temper!